


Follow Me

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [52]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Fantasizing, Leather, Leather Trousers, M/M, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil finds a creative way to shake a tail. Clint approves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Leather/Latex/Rubber

"These guys are pretty good, Phil. Tweed Jacket is still a half-a-block behind you and Baseball Cap is across the street."

"I see them, Barton."

"'Course you do, Phil. They've hung on for three-quarters of an hour already," Clint's voice held a little bit of admiration. "The last batch only lasted twenty minutes."

"The previous team had some unfortunate personality conflicts that made them unable to work together as a unit."

"I'll say. When the tall blond one stormed out of the surveillance van ranting about Cheetos, I nearly shot him just to put him out of everyone else's misery. This bunch seem to have their act together, though. How hard have you been trying to shake them?"

"Not very hard, that wouldn't be fair. I'm going to give them another ten minutes or so, then I'm going to make a break so we can see what they do."

"Roger that, boss."

Phil Coulson and Clint Barton were taking a batch of SHIELD trainees through one of their last exercises before final grading. The exercise was jokingly called the "Kobayashi Maru" test, because it was actually meant to test the recruits' reaction to the failure of their mission, rather than their ability to tail a Senior Agent. 

Which is why Clint was up on the roof of an apartment building, following Phil's progress and reporting on the movements of the trainees who were doing a creditable job of keeping him in sight. It was meant to give the Senior Agent enough of an advantage to be sure he could lose the four-person surveillance team. The object of the exercise was to see what the trainees did next. How they dealt with failure as a group. Some teams dissolved into bickering. Sometimes a clear leader emerged. Often they couldn't agree on a strategy and headed off in four separate directions. 

Coulson didn't really need Clint's help to lose a tail, but he didn't really mind having him on the comms for the afternoon, either. Phil strolled down the street, looking casually into the windows of the businesses he passed. Clint knew he was getting ready to make his move, and was looking forward to seeing how he gave the four pairs of eyes on him (two on foot on the street and two more in a slow-moving car) the slip.

Coulson went into an antique shop and Clint grinned. He knew Phil would spend a few minutes browsing, and then have a bit of a chat with the owner about any 'boxes of old baseball cards' that he may happen to have. That was how Phil was building his collection of vintage Captain America trading cards. 

Sure enough, Phil emerged from the shop five minutes later. Baseball Cap had scooted down an alley to cover the back door of the shop, and Tweed Jacket had drifted closer, keeping Phil just in sight inside the shop.

Phil did the same in a small appliance store, where he spent a few minutes looking at electric razors. This time a woman in a Jean Jacket got out of the follow car, and headed around the block to cover the back. Tweed Jacket got into the car and Baseball Cap pretended to be very interested in a street vendor's selection of knock-off sunglasses and burner cell phones.

Phil emerged from the shop and crossed the road, carefully not glancing at the follow car as he did. Clint watched the woman in the Jean Jacket jog back and take up a position by a newsstand. Phil went into a bakery. Clint's stomach rumbled.

"Get me a cruller while you're there, willya boss?"

"Sorry Barton, your stomach will have to wait. This is a prop."

"Why did I know you were going to say that? I'm starving up here."

"Well, you should have brought lunch."

"I didn't figure to still be up here, since the last bunch lost you after twenty minutes, I mean, you weren't even trying to give them the slip and they lost you." Phil could hear Clint shaking his head.

Phil emerged a few minutes later with a large pink pastry box tied up with a bow.

"Killing me here, Phil."

"I'll buy you some cupcakes later, Barton."

Phil walked down the block and went into a shop on the corner. Clint's eyebrows went up.

About ten minutes later, Clint saw Baseball Cap perk up as a customer came out of the shop, and after a quick glance, go right back to "texting" furiously.

Clint looked at the man who had just emerged from "Leather and Lace." He was wearing motorcycle boots, black leather pants, a white t-shirt with a black leather vest over it, and one of those peaked leather caps that Clint had only ever seen in 1970s music videos and really bad porn.

Clint watched as the figure headed down the street. He'd know that ass anywhere. And that walk, despite the clunky boots, and he had also caught a brief flash of Phil's Ranger tattoo on his left forearm. Clint hit the button on his comms.

"Phil, please, please tell me you are going to wear that outfit all the way home."

"Barton, we're still working here," came the reply.

"I'm just reporting exactly what I see here, boss, and what I'm currently seeing is that you have a mighty fine ass, an ass that I'd very much like to - "

"Barton!"

"The best way to get me to shut up right now, Phil, is to tell me that you are heading straight home so that I can peel that outfit off you very, very slowly." Clint let his voice drop into a deep, smoky register.

"I need to stay out in the open for another fifteen or twenty minutes, to be fair to the trainees, in case they figure it out and start looking for me. I'm going to go sit in a bar two blocks down. Stay in position with the trainees unless they move."

Clint was watching Phil's retreating figure with dismay. 

"Barton, do you copy that?"

"Yeah, boss. I'll be good. For now. But I'm warning you, twenty minutes from now I fully intend to get my hands on your ass in those pants. Oh, and if anyone tries to hit on you, be sure to tell them that you're waiting for your big beefy boyfriend to arrive."

Phil didn't respond to that, but Clint didn't expect him to. He switched to the comm channel that the trainees were using and listened to the chatter. They were, predictably, arguing about whether or not Coulson was still in the leather shop, and whether or not one of them should go in to check. Jean Jacket, who had again dashed down an alley to cover the back exit, swore that he hadn't gotten by her. Baseball Cap was convinced that Coulson was fucking with them, and wanted to wait longer. Tweed Jacket was ready to report in that they had lost their target.

Clint sat back and watched them with one eye while he thought about Phil. Leather had never been a big thing for him, beyond a fit guy in a cool-looking jacket, maybe, but he'd never seen Phil in leather pants before. The vest, hat, and boots didn't do anything for him, but the pants... Clint thought about running his hands over the tight muscles of Phil's leather-covered ass again, and again. Thought about pulling that ass to him, grinding their groins together until they could each feel the other's erection. Thought about kneeling in front of Phil, rubbing his face across the taut leather, nuzzling deep with his nose. Unfastening the pants, pushing underwear out of the way, freeing Phil's hard dick and swallowing it down, his nose buried deep in Phil's pubic hair and the sides of his face bracketed by the fly of the leather trousers. 

Clint stopped, shook himself. Climbing down fire escapes with a raging hardon was never fun, he knew that from experience. He looked at his watch. Ten more minutes before he could leave the kids to fend for themselves. 

Jean Jacket was arguing with Baseball Cap on the comms. She wanted to go into the shop to check if Phil was there. He didn't. She was around back, he was out front. Mr. Tweed still wanted to report in and the fourth member of the team was keeping quiet, letting everyone else decide what to do. Jean Jacket won out, and convinced Baseball Cap to switch positions with her. He headed down the alley and a minute later she emerged and went into the shop. Two minutes later she came back out and headed straight for the follow car.

"They know you're not in the shop. They're trying to decide what to do now," Clint reported to Phil. "Looks like they're... all four are climbing into the car. They're giving up, Phil."

"I'm at The Butcher's Arms on 53rd."

"Be there in three minutes."

He made it in two-and-a-half, and walked into the bar to find Phil had taken off the hat and was sitting at the bar, an untouched beer in front of him.

"You planning on drinking that?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Want to know how long you're gonna make me wait." Clint stepped right up to Phil, knowing full well that he was a little sweaty from the dash down from the rooftops, and turned a pair of smoldering eyes on his boyfriend, who was trying, and failing, to pretend he had no idea what Clint was talking about. Phil picked up his beer and downed it in a series of long gulps. He snagged his hat off the bar, and climbed off the barstool.

"Home. Now," Clint said, and Phil grinned a mischievous grin at him before following him out of the bar.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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